


Masochist

by Sycophantism



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Blood, M/M, Masochism, Submission, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 04:16:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11283573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sycophantism/pseuds/Sycophantism
Summary: Black Hat ponders the word "masochism" as he tries to find the limits of Flug's devotion. (He doesn't find them.)





	Masochist

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first Villainous fic ever and it was super self-indulgent. It was mostly me using Black Hat to explore the origin of the concept of masochism, and how it would apply to Flug and his relationship to Black Hat, as compared to the more universal use of the word these days to mean "deriving pleasure from pain." 
> 
> sghkds then I got frustrated and unhappy with it so I said "fuck this I'm making it smut" and it took me this long to decide I like it enough to post it. 
> 
> PLEASE ENJOY

Even in all of his years, Black Hat could only recall coming across a handful of such a rare breed. Just the thought of them had him salivating, a shamefully base response yet one he didn't care to rein in. This was a delicacy that he'd clear his schedule to enjoy time and again.

 _Masochism_. Rooted in the name of a man of just such perversions, he'd written books about his intrinsic craving to submit. Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, accredited with the first publishing of such deviancy. Black Hat had done great research on the topic; humans, he thought, had such pitifully low standards when it came to deviancy. Surrendering yourself to the will of another - hah! That had been a staple of human nature for centuries, and yet to find pleasure in it was considered perverse. 

The human standard for masochism was pathetic. 

And yet. 

Some of them, he'd come to find, had a dark, terrible depth to their subversion. Though humans had been the ones to apply the word masochism, Black Hat fancied himself better versed in the nuances of what masochism's true nature ought to be acknowledged as. Not only the pleasure of subjugation, but the abandonment of self-preservation in pursuit of the pleasure of the master. The willingness, he decided, to forego one's own limits for the sake of pleasing the one they've bowed to. 

For one who found such delight in pushing the limits of others, forcing them to cross those lines they'd drawn in the sand, it presented a wonderfully, deliciously complicated conundrum. If they were so willing to compromise on their own hard limits, then who was to say any limit was truly off limits? It filled him with a roiling sense of ambition, knowing how much a human would sacrifice for his pleasure, and knowing that he could push them past that willingness until they begged for their freedom back. His cruelty knew no bounds, and it was only a matter of time before a self-proclaimed masochist would break. 

In truth, it rarely took any time at all. These masochists sought subjugation, or pain, or helplessness, and yet they secretly wanted to retain control; when they were expected to give more than they were truly willing, they fled. It was pathetic. They didn't deserve the word. Humans, he thought, didn't deserve the word. 

And _yet_. 

He'd seen them. True masochists, submitting to his will, never protesting, never truly craving their own autonomy more than whatever he wished upon them. 

Though he'd never encountered it in such a way as with Flug, who seemed to cower at the prospect of autonomy. It was terribly fascinating; one with such intellect, even ambition, who felt no more content than when he was stripped of his faculties and left to the whim of a creature that spared no mind for his well-being. There seemed to be something freeing for him in this, and no matter how he pressed, Black Hat could not find the extent of Flug's deference. It would have been frustrating - could be, at times - if it weren't so obscenely exquisite. 

Finally, a sense of raw domination-- no. Dominion. Possession. 

"What within you is so broken to make this enjoyable?" he wondered, claws sinking into the flesh of Flug's abdomen until the doctor arched. Out of pure instinct Flug tried to curl in on himself, freezing as Black Hat pierced him through, lodging his talons into the ground beneath the doctor. Blood bubbled from his lips as he coughed, tension flooding from his body as he collapsed back, gasping for air. 

"S-- sir?" The single syllable warbled and wavered, pain and fear and disorientation making it difficult for Flug to concentrate on much else than the wounds marring his body. Still, he communicated his confusion with that one word, pliant and ready to appease. 

"I am killing you, Dr. Flug," Black Hat said, completely blasé. It wasn't a threat so much as an observation; the muscles of Flug's stomach were spasming beneath his palm, organs ruptured and dripping inside, blood pooling around him. It was beyond anything he'd done before, but that need to push had finally - well, pushed him. 

Flug opened his mouth, perhaps to reply, perhaps to cry, and only coughed; rasping, wet, weak. There was a daze to his eyes that belied just how hard he was trying to stay conscious. The effort was almost endearing. 

Making a low noise of annoyance, Black Hat withdrew his claws, the sound like that of a sword being sheathed. It dragged Flug's body up from the ground, then dropped him back down with a splash; the rattling sound in his lungs might have been a scream, if he'd had the energy for it. Flicking blood and detritus from his fingers, Black Hat reached up and cupped Flug's jaw, noting how the man's head lolled toward his hand. It was revolting, yet for some reason he didn't take the opportunity to flay Flug's cheek open. Why? he wondered. Perhaps it was the simple joy of being depended on by someone he'd just skewered so thoroughly. Granted, such gestures of weakness would disgust him at any other time. But Flug was on the cusp of unconsciousness and still, so intrinsically, he put himself at Black Hat's mercy. It was... not humbling, certainly. It was _power_. 

"Tell me why," Black Hat said, to his own surprise. He wanted to know what it was that made Flug so capable of letting himself be pushed to this point. He would literally allow Black Hat to kill him. 

Flug's lips shifted, words mumbled but incoherent. Scowling, Black Hat drew back a hand and slapped him. It had no clear effect. Right. This wasn't just Flug being timid; he was literally passing out. 

Heaving a sigh, Black Hat cradled Flug's face in one hand, claws drawing over the ridge of his temple, magic delving into his brain. In the next moment Flug was lurching, gasping, eyes wide and pupils blown out and mind far too alert for the amount of pain in his body. The shaking started again, tremors and trembles that wracked his body as he whimpered, barely able to manage much more than that. 

"I want to know why, Flug," he said again, curling a claw beneath Flug's eye as he stared down at the dying man. "What could possibly compel you to lay there and accept death? You, who flinches and cowers at the slightest threat to your safety any other time?"

Panting, eyes hazy with pain but alert, focused on Black Hat's words, the scientist swallowed a mouthful of blood and nearly choked on it. It would be easy to heal him, but Black Hat wanted the answer now. When Flug thought he was going to die. 

"... not my... fault," Flug finally managed, breathless. Black Hat frowned. "Whatever... you want... s-sir--" He was coughing again, words tapering off into wheezes as he tried not to drown in his own blood. 

Furrowing his brow, Black Hat straightened and stared down at his scientist. As simple as that? He didn't want responsibility? What a stupid reason. Black Hat could kill him for any trivial reason and Flug would be satisfied, so long as it wasn't on him. What a stupid, _stupid_ reason. 

And. Yet. 

He ensconced Flug in shadows, tendrils curling over his limp body, licking over the wounds and delving into them, making the scientist jerk and gasp and shudder. And they healed him, stitching the flesh together, mending the wounds and returning him to a sustainable state. 

"So it's not your fault?" Black Hat demanded, leaning back on his heels as Flug sat up, hands scouring himself and finding his body mended. He looked _surprised_ and Black Hat scowled. "You really believed you were going to die! And you didn't fight to live!"

Flug grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck as he cleared his throat. "Uh. Sir, it's... just that..." Pantomiming with his hands, he struggled to find the words. "I suppose... if it would serve a purpose to you, then, I, it'd, that'd be... fine." Clearly dissatisfied with his own explanation, but still recovering from having nearly bled out two minutes ago, Flug gulped.

"How, then, are you such a coward?" It didn't add up, and Black Hat was feeling himself grow annoyed with the topic. 

Evidently noticing, Flug gestured, then wrung his hands together. "Your, um, your temper is still, quite frankly, terrifying, sir, that I'm, uh, that you occasionally, at times, make rash decisions, and being k-killed in a fit of-- er, in a, a caprice of rage, doesn't seem... profitable." It was a pathetic explanation and he knew it. His shoulders slumped. 

Black Hat made a noise of irritation, rising to stand. "So you have some self-preservation instinct after all."

"Y-- Yes, sir!" Looking up, Flug was quick to scramble to his feet - only to sway, going pale. Lashing out, Black Hat seized his arm, steadying him. 

"A pint of your blood is still on the floor," Black Hat growled, watching as the scientist's eyes dropped to the pool at their feet. "I stitch flesh, fool, I don't generate hemoglobin." 

"Ah... r-right, sir, sorry." Raising an unsteady hand to his head, Flug sighed. "Was, um... sir... did..." It was clear he was having a difficult time thinking, let alone organizing his normally-frenetic thoughts into speech. 

"Shut up." Exasperated with Flug's fumbling, Black Hat wrapped a cocoon of shadows around them both and swept them across the mansion. Flug stumbled, catching himself on Black Hat's sleeve a moment before recoiling. "Stop moving." Flug tried. 

Emerging in Flug's room, Black Hat was quick to deposit the doctor on his bed. "Tell me, Dr. Flug, how deep your depravity runs." Flug winced, looking up with incomprehension. "You clearly derive pleasure from pain." The prick of a claw against his neck made this point, Flug sucking in a shuddering breath as, visible even to Black Hat, his cock twitched within his pants. Black Hat clicked his tongue. "Even so shortly after nearly being bled to death, and you have the gall to divert blood for the sake of arousal." 

"I-- it's ent-tirely involutnary, s--sir," Flug said between breaths, shifting a hand to try and conceal his shame. 

"Whatever." Black Hat waved a hand dismissively. He couldn't be expected to remember ever nuance of human anatomy. "And you're clearly pathetic enough that your own life means less to you than my whims." Not that Black Hat disagreed; he was just annoyed that Flug had come to him in such a state, rather than having been rendered that way by Black Hat himself. 

"W-well, sir... rather, um..." Flug hesitated, fingers twitching against the sheets. Black Hat arched a brow, expectant. Licking his lips, Flug mumbled, "I, um... do value my life... but... don't b-believe myself the most... suitable to be responsible for... it..." Trailing off, he let his gaze drift away as well, entirely too self-conscious. 

Black Hat stared at him in abject disbelief. "And I _am_?" he exclaimed, incredulous. "What an absolutely moronic--" 

"It's what you want, isn't it?" Flug cut in, finally looking up at the Eldritch being. Black Hat pursed his lips into a frown. Yes, but that was besides the point. "Sir? Then-- um..." Flug shrugged. 

Black Hat scowled. It would take time and contemplation to figure out why he was less satisfied with that answer than he - and Flug, evidently - thought he ought to be. Time that Black Hat didn't want to spend on introspection right now. 

And so, shelving the topic for another time, he said simply, "You're still hard."

A flush crawled up Flug's chest and neck and he merely said, "Um." 

"I'm going to fuck you," Black Hat said, and Flug shuddered - in pleasure, Black Hat suspected, with a strange burble of satisfaction. 

Shredding the rest of Flug's clothes was hardly the work of ten seconds, since neither felt the need to spare much consideration for the skin underneath. Fresh cuts welled with blood under Black Hat's talons, and by the time he had Flug pinned beneath him, the man's erection was leaking against his stomach. "Masochist," Black Hat hissed, and Flug shivered out a whine. It was the greatest compliment that Flug would never know Black Hat had given him.

**Author's Note:**

> ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ


End file.
